Wildfire
by Dancing-Through-The-Daydreams
Summary: Life isn't a joke. Death isn't a joke. Reincarnation isn't a joke. But she'll do her hardest. SI OC (of sorts).
1. Prologue - At first I was afraid

**Title**: Wildfire

**Summary**: Life isn't a joke. Death isn't a joke. Reincarnation isn't a joke. But she'll do her hardest. SI OC (of sorts).

**Rated**: Teen, due to swearing.

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing but my own misery and the half-baked character I've spent too much time pratting about with. If I did own the franchise, I'd most likely have progressed with the story instead of drawing out a battle for a year and a half.

**A/N:** One of the several characters I will eventually get around to writing the story for, now typed up. Partially. And yes, I'm jumping on the SI bandwagon.

_Prologue _

Being reincarnated, from experience, isn't some gentle, seamless transitional process from which you are one person, then very suddenly another, without memories of your previous state.

Being reincarnated isn't a deeply profound experience, in which the mysteries of the universe are suddenly exposed for your leisurely perusal and your mind becomes infinite in it's own wonder.

Fucking _frightening_ is what reincarnation is.

_**Traumatizing**_ is what reincarnation is.

_**Faulty**_, was what mine was.

It's also hard to explain. It was one of those 'You-had-to-have-been-there' situations.

Assuming it had occurred before, and there had been a long stream of perfectly average and infinitely boring (in the grand scheme of things, of course) people who housed my soul prior to my existence this time around, I had either hit a limiting number or something had overloaded the cosmic recycling system because the whole 'fresh start' thing didn't happen.

Not this time.

I remember _dying_.

I remember the sheer terror and confusion I felt, horrified at my impending death. I remember the heat and the smoke and the building collapsing around me. I remember the dwindling sensation of hope as it became apparent that no one was coming to help me.

I was being left to burn to death.

I remember crying when I came to that realization; screaming my throat raw against the smoke and dust and ash as the ceiling caved in on me, flames licking at my skin.

I hadn't wanted to die.

I don't think most people do, really. There are the odd few cases, 'Please-don't-resuscitates', euthanasia seekers and those who are ready to go in peace.

I was none of the above. In fact, I was quite attached to my life.

I had _dreams_, aspirations of travelling and seeing the world, of growing as a person and returning to impart wisdom on those who didn't want it. I wanted to be remembered.

Now I was nothing.

Now I was a nameless statistic, unidentifiable due to near cremation and with no family to mourn for me.

I remember the fire continuing for so long, longer than I anticipated it to. I know time can seem to stretch when you don't want it to, but I'm fairly sure once the nerve endings went, you weren't supposed to be in pain. Then again, theory and practice were two different things.

_**Drastically different**_.

I remember the fire burning, licking at my insides, searing through my veins, heating my very soul. It sounds poetic but felt fucking horrible. It lasted to a point where I almost felt connected to the fire, if that's possible. The fire used me as an energy source; therefore I was tapped into it and could _livebreatheexist_ in it.

It carried on burning me until I realized it didn't'. I could feel it, but it didn't hurt anymore. It didn't consume me anymore.

I figured that was because it had eaten too much of me away, but then questioned how it was I could ponder its motives if the fire was supposed to have cremated my internal organs.

I half felt as if I was high, following in the venerable footsteps of those who were up until questionable hours of the night on the computer, posting sleep-deprived posts on Tumblr, painting the room in neon colours at two in the morning or doing really early calls to twenty-four hour supermarkets.

It was almost a numbness, except for the burning, which was more of a flame from a tea-light, the wild forest fire constricted and concentrated until the smallest flicker. It oozed its way through my veins and permeated every fibre of my being.

I was slammed back into my mind violently, the feeling similar to being punched in the stomach. I was winded, but had no need to breathe, hurt, but nothing to feel hurt with. I could see, but had no eyes. I could hear, but had no ears.

I knew this, but had no idea how.

It was white, like looking into a blank Microsoft Word document for too long, for as far as the eye could see. It pervaded every sense that I had, every dimension of thinking.

I had been stripped of everything.

I had the memories, sure.

I could remember who I had been, with a hell of a lot more clarity than I could prior to being burnt alive, but I didn't associate them as mine.

They weren't my memories.

They were someone else's.

I had no physical limits, no mental blocks.

I didn't do anything, nor feel the need to do anything either.

I was there, and then not, and merely existed.

_And then the world turned on end; I took a deep breath, and screamed._

A/N:

Chaotic, I know, but the lucidity is supposed to fade toward the end for good reason. I don't imagine the process to be anything other than a pure mindfuck, personally.

The beginning of a story you may ask? Yes, yes it is.

Have you got it planned out? Not really.

Reviews would be appreciated given it's the first time trying something like this…


	2. Chapter 1 - I was petrified

**Title**: Wildfire

**Summary**: Life isn't a joke. Death isn't a joke. Reincarnation isn't a joke. But she'll do her hardest. SI OC (of sorts).

**Rating**: T for swearing.

**Disclaimer**: …do I sound like I'm earning significant amounts of money from drawing, to you? I own nothing but my own inability to answer a phone correctly and the soon to be developed character below.

**A/N**:

_15.07.14_

Okay, I was sat here, with many tabs open. I leave the monitoring page on for about three minutes after posting this, whilst browsing Tumblr and I've got fourteen hits already. I mean, I know it's not favorites etc, but damn.

Next morning – holy shit.

Holy shit.

Holy SHIT GUYS!

*incoherent screaming*

I am freaking out at the other end of the computer screen. I literally walked through my house imitating that supernatural GIF of Sam screaming/gawping/I can't-ing. It was emotional.

I swear, if I could, I would hug you all. Tightly. Enthusiastically. Spin you around and jump up and down.

And as to updates – I will try my best to keep them regular, for those that care and want to read it (inwardly screaming at that statement) but life, my own inability to write consistently and everything else may make them slightly irregular. However, I will try! I really will!

Plus, _**BIG**_ thanks to:

Favouites/Follows:

Kanna-yamamoto

Kitsunelover300

Sblck

Minnk

Rikudousakuya

kasuma111

fanfiction2010

GetWithIt

Moon1691

Reviews:

**Kitsunelover300**: Thank you so much for taking the time to review! (and so nicely, at that!) I've been antagonizing over the prospect of a story like this for ages, and the amount of times I've started to write one, then rewritten it, then rewritten it etc. This one I just sat down last night, and wrote. And actually liked the standard at which I had written for once.

The burning bit, I'm not quite sure where that came from, but it worked for once, so, I went with it. The fact that she lasted so long in the fire is mostly to do with the process. She's been burnt alive, and is being reborn; the process of which she'll be stuck with not only the last feeling she had, but also the change in body, the stripping of her identity and the construction of a new network. Plus fire is going to play an extremely iconic piece in this, me thinks.

I've got some of the story planned out, and know what I want to happen eventually. Getting to that point will be a problem, however! ;) Any input you'd like to give as this progresses will be more than welcome!

Chapter 1

"…_**eyes!"**_

I was hot, fire burning through my veins, coursing up and coalescing _**behindinthrough**_ my eyes but it was cold and it wet but dry and my skin _myskinmyskin _was on fire.

I had skin.

I had fucking skin.

The light was blinding, there were only shapes, and my eyes were blurred with tears, nothing but the burn behind my eyes and the stinging of my senses and _holyshitwhat'sgoingon-_

"_**-not…age-"**_

-_mybonesmyjointsmymuscles_ I can't control anything _ohgodIcan'tbreathe-_

"_**-how…unheard of!"**_

_-whatsgoingonIwasdeadIwasthereIrememeberandnowImherewhatsgoingon-_

"_**-spiritual…high…developed-"**_

I remembered. I _remembered_. _Iremembered_.

"_**-panic-"**_

_Iremembere__dIremembered__**Irememebere**__**dIremembered**_.

"_**-help-"**_

_**HolyshitIwasdeadIwasdeadIwasdeadbutnowI'mfuckingnot**_-

And then nothing.

I will admit to hearing the odd clip of conversation in between panic attacks and passing out, and what looking back, were most likely checkups (newborn, not that I realized at the time, I was too busy trying to re-orientate that fact that I _was_ dead but was _now_ _**alive**_ and now no longer belonged to that particular bracket).

I will admit to only understanding the odd piece of what was spoken, or at least what I assumed it meant. I will also admit to taking rudimentary Japanese online classes when I was alive. Eh, I wanted to live there, once upon a time, see Tokyo, see the temples, see the sights. Eat at a noodle bar. Visit the Pokémon world. Be able to watch anime in Japanese and understand it for once.

Yes, I was one of those sorts.

It was only when I looked back, however, that I realized I could understand some of what was said (and remember it – damn, I was a newborn, fucking hell, was my memory this good?) . At the time all I could really think was:

'-_**HOLYFUCKSHITWHATNOWHATSHIT**_-'

Eloquent, I know, but I'd just gone from an ethereal existence, after being burnt to death, to being caught in what felt like a small volcano as gigantic fucking _hands _the size of what felt like a small JCB that dug into my back. It was odd, as I recognized the shape but my senses rebelled.

I'd never felt that before, but I had.

I didn't know what that was, 'supporting' my back, but I did.

I was frighteningly young, but old.

I was experienced, but new to everything.

It was weird as hell.

I wasn't handling the situation well.

At all.

It felt like my heart was trying to beat out of my chest, and every noise the people around me made (again, reflection made sense of them; the clanking from the tools, the gentle hums from the people around me, the conversations from the side of the room.) made me jump a mile.

Only, it wasn't a jump, so to speak. More of an involuntary spasm of the muscles; vaguely reminiscent of being electrocuted, if I'm quite honest. (I'd done one of the courses to own a Taser.) Not everything quite connected up, I figured.

I was still crying by this point, having resurfaced from what appeared to be another blackout from being overloaded by information, but being passed from JCB to JCB would do that to a person.

Especially after what had just happened.

I had just been born.

Well, re-born.

'_**-Ohfuckshitshitfuck**_-'

Well, it was more screaming, than crying. My throat (is that what it was?) was raw, my vocal chords grating and my voice not loud enough to voice my displeasure.

It hurt.

Everything hurt.

Everything felt _alive_.

I was _alive_.

_I_ was alive.

I _was_ alive.

And then I fainted again.

.

.

Soothing.

Something made its way carefully across me, somewhere I couldn't quite place a name to (arm? No, chest, that's it), a strange prickling sensation (hairs standing on end, I know this) as if someone held their hands just above the skin and brushed the air there.

It caressed the surface layer, a hum of energy that I could practically taste (… almost like… ozone), permeating every pore, every hair, every inch. Everything.

Then it moved down, into my chest and whatever peaceful surrender I was happily hiding away in was ripped away violently.

Once more, I screamed.

It burned, the wildfireconsumingburningeating-

And then it stopped. The something (hand!) had whipped away quickly and the dull echo I'd felt around me since flared with energy, pulsing in a… well, violent manner.

"-_**wrong**_!"

It was a feminine voice. I knew it sounded familiar, somehow. I think she was one of the voices from before. Perhaps _(and, oh, wasn't this a statement_) family? A _**mother**_?

My veins were molten once more, but it didn't hurt like before. The heat practically oozed around my body, settling in my midsection like too much of a hot drink (Hot Chocolate! I remember that) at a time, almost humming.

"_**-sense…often…family?"**_

A Foreign voice this time. Rough and almost calloused. Experienced. World weary.

"_**-few… died…ago."**_

The woman again.

With every word she said I could feel a slight ripple in the echo, the churning mass underneath belaying every calm word that came from her mouth. It almost washed over me, a static charge leaving an aftertaste as the ripple almost smothered my senses.

"_**-extreme…cautious…train-"**_

It was comforting though. Not like being suffocated by a pillow, but more sinking into a hot bath, after an extremely busy day. But then it wasn't, because you've got the constant edge to the feeling, showing it's angry roots – this was not part of my system. This was a new feeling to me, but it seemed familiar, if that made sense? It was… weird. There's no other way to describe it, to be honest.

Like something you've known your whole life but the concept is decidedly new, changing your entire outlook on the object. The feeling wasn't dissimilar.

"_**-introduce…valuable-"**_

The molten material in my veins steadily slowed, to the point where it was nearly not moving, merely pooling in areas, like a particularly sluggish stream, lethargic against the soothing charge surrounding me.

Something cool (finger? Hand?) traced my face, outlining where my viewpoint (eyes! A pair of them to boot) was, stroking my nose and smoothing against my cheek, causing all the muscles in my back to relax involuntarily and all coherent thought (I don't think there was any in the first place) to dissipate.

"_**Mother?"**_

.

.

_22.07.14_

So. Guess who had a miniature freak out at the idea of writing a continuing Fanfiction?

Yeah, it sunk in the other day (about mid-way through the week) that I actually had to continue with this. Not that I wasn't going to in the first place, but the subconscious thought process appeared to have hit me.

No matter, either way! I intend to carry on, viciously.

In other news, my Mum is all for this… which is nice yet moderately disturbing. I haven't given her a link yet, and don't intend to purely because, not only am I swearing my little black heart out, but also purely the subject matter etc. I dunno, I want to keep it away from the family?

Question: Favourite book(s), and why?


End file.
